The Seeker
by Hecateslover
Summary: "There is nothing wrong with seeking pain." He repeated, watching Harry's expression. "It is only how you seek it that makes it potentially dangerous." HP/SS BDSM. Rated M for a reason,people. Have fun!


**The Seeker**

**HPSS**

**Warnings: BDSM  
**

"There is nothing wrong with seeking pain." He repeated, watching Harry's expression. "It is only_ how_ you seek it is what makes it potentially dangerous."

x-x-x

Harry let out a slow steady breath, pressing his hand firmly against his wound. He was in the potions lab on the first night of term for his Seventh year.

Despite his hopes, he'd had to stay at the Dursleys all summer- even after he turned of age. The Headmaster had been insistent. And now Harry was nursing his injuries.

He'd run out of healing potions halfway through the summer- it seemed as though Dudley and Uncle Vernon had tried their best to get their punches in before he left them for good.

Harry had three small cauldrons set up on the work station, and all of them were simmering away. He was shirtless in the cold lab, as he attempted to heal his wounds. He had bruises and things on his legs as well, but those could wait for now.

He bit his lip as he saw one of his scratches had gotten infected. It had been hard, to keep them clean when he wasn't let out of his room nearly often enough.

"What is going on here?"

He jumped and gasped, attempting to cover himself up. He turned around, heart pounding. He looked at Professor Snape with wide eyes, feeling terrified.

The man looked deeply shocked. He was at his office door, wearing a dressing robe over a nightshirt. His hair looked rather mussed- perhaps he'd been asleep? After all, it was the middle of the night.

Harry began to panic as he realized that the man could see- he grabbed his shirt hastily, hyperventilating.

"Potter…" Snape started, and reached for him, but he hesitated. "Potter, calm down." Harry flinched as one of the man's hands neared his arm. "You're hurt. Let me help you."

"No!" Harry hissed, stepping away, backing into the table roughly.

The three cauldrons tipped, their formally controlled flames went wild. The potions went everywhere, and Snape hastily spelled some water on to the flames before grabbing Harry and tugging him into his office. He'd barely managed to kick the door behind him before there was an explosion.

The explosion caused the door to slam open, and Snape landed on top of the injured boy. Harry cried out in pain, while Snape shielded him from the blast with his own body.

Snape hissed as something burned at his back, but he quickly grabbed the boy and picked him up bridal style, said teen was too frightened and in shock to fight him now.

Harry buried his head into the man's neck while they went down a flight of stairs. "You are going to serve me every day until that lab is cleaned, Mr. Potter." Snape muttered. "Detention, for at least a month!" He kicked at a narrow wooden door at the base of the stairs.

"You should have gone to Madam Pomfrey if you were injured…you looked just fine at the Feast- surely you didn't get into a fight already?"

Harry only trembled, and the man sat him down on the sofa. "I will be right back."

Harry just sat there, unfeeling and oblivious to the man going through his kitchen cabinets, searching for potions. He didn't even notice blood that was streaming freely from his arm now, onto his school pants.

Snape fed him several potions, which Harry took absently.

"Shock, I think." The man muttered to himself. He sighed. "Here's a dreamless sleep potion. Get some rest."

Harry woke groggily to quiet whispers. He was lying down on a couch, and he was covered by a thick blanket. He sat up slowly, pausing as he heard the whispers stop. He looked around, noting the unfamiliar sitting room…where was he?

"Harry, I'm so glad you're awake." The Headmaster said, smiling sadly at him. It was then that Harry noticed he was wearing a faded white nightshirt, and he could feel bandages wrapped around his arms and chest. He tugged the blanket up a bit closer- he wasn't wearing pants- just his boxers. There were bandages on his legs too.

"When Severus told me what happened, I was so very worried. I suppose that's the last time you'll set off a prank in his classroom, isn't it?"

Harry glanced to Snape, who was silent, steadily avoiding his gaze.

"Yes sir." Harry said quietly, looking down at his lap.

"I've told your friends, they were rather worried. But no matter, you'll be good as new in just a few days. Severus here as offered to look after your injuries, in exchange for you cleaning up his classroom as soon as you feel better."

Harry only nodded. The Headmaster patted his hand, giving him a gentle smile. "It is good to see you again, Harry. Are you excited to be here for your Seventh year? Time has passed so quickly, hasn't it?"

Harry only looked away.

Albus sighed. "Well, yes, I will see you soon, Harry. I'll come by at dinnertime. Miss Granger has offered to write your notes for you while you're recuperating- I'll give you your notes then."

"Thank you sir."

The man left, and Harry was quietly trying to figure out how things had gotten to this point. His memory was rather disjointed. He'd been in the lab…and Snape had caught him….somehow there was an explosion….had Snape carried him here?

He thought of the bandages, and the night shirt, and the blanket- had Snape done all that too?

"Thank you." Harry said quietly. He figured a thank you was in order.

Snape only shrugged it off, handing him a vial, and then another one. "Your next dose of pain reliever, and a calming draught."

"A calming draught?" Harry asked as he took them. The man seemed to wait a few moments, watching him carefully.

"I'd like to know a few things." Snape said, pulling up a hard backed wooden chair close to the sofa that Harry was sitting on. "And I can't have you panicking and aggravating your injuries."

Indeed, the potions were reacting quickly, and Harry felt completely composed- all nervousness was gone.

"Of course." Harry said evenly.

"Those bruises and scrapes of yours- not all of them were recent. And since the Order never reported you getting into scraps in that muggle neighborhood of yours…"

"Just say it." Harry said flatly, wanting to scream, but couldn't.

"I've…had my suspicions for a while now. But I wasn't sure until last night. Potter…why didn't you say anything? Why did you keep it to yourself?"

"Why did you lie to the Headmaster?" Harry asked in rebuttal.

The man's lips thinned. "I didn't. I told him what I saw."

Harry's mind raced, but his mouth couldn't keep up. "Why…would he pretend the explosion was a prank then?"

"A good cover up." Snape muttered.

Harry blinked, and looked away, fiddling with the blanket.

"The Headmaster has this habit of trying to see the best in people, even if they don't deserve it. In his mind, no child could ever be hurt by their family." Snape sounded very bitter. Harry briefly recalled their occulemency lessons, and what'd seen about Snape-

"So…he'll just deny it." Harry said, wanting to be angry, but he couldn't. Not with this potion in his system.

"I'm afraid so. Normally, in this situation, your Head of House and Poppy would step in and sort this out privately. It's happened before. We usually manage to relocate the student to another home before the end of term." Snape frowned. "But the Headmaster has always had a special interest in you."

Harry's fingers clenched slowly. He wanted to scream and yell and cry, maybe even hit something, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

"What now?" He asked hollowly.

"For now, you heal. You're of age, so there is no reason for you to return to those muggles. I'm sure they will…find their retribution soon enough."

Harry blinked at the man slowly. Why did that sound so ominous?

Snape ran a hand through his hair, making Harry think the gesture looked so…odd on the Professor. He almost seemed like a different person. Perhaps he was, since they were in private.

Harry glanced around. "These are your rooms, sir?"

"Yes." Snape frowned. "I suggest you never even think about telling your friends about where my quarters are."

"I wouldn't." Harry said simply. "I'm not stupid."

"Good."

Harry looked down at his bandaged arms.

"You were lucky I was there. You'd lost a lot of blood. You must have reopened one of your wounds in the blast."

Harry nodded.

"Thanks."

"You should get some rest. That potion will wear off in a couple of hours. Do your best to keep calm, will you? I don't want to have to dose you again."

Harry nodded, and laid down.

"Your school robes are being cleaned and repaired by the elves now. They'll be ready when you wake."

Sss

Harry awoke a few hours later, hearing a quill scratching. He turned over groggily, wincing at the pain in his side. He blinked sleepily, pulling on his glasses.

Snape was sitting in the wooden chair by the sofa again, writing something. He paused, looking down at Harry.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit."

The man smirked. "But better, right?'

Harry gave a slight shrug of his shoulder, sitting up slowly. Had he cursed? And Snape hadn't cared? Huh. "What are you doing?"

Snape sighed, tapping his quill to the papers. "A report for Madam Pomfrey's files. The Headmaster didn't want to alert anyone of how your injuries were, which is why it was left to me to do all the paperwork. He didn't want to cause a panic if people found out that Poppy was called."

"Hmph. I guess that's alright. I hate being in the hospital wing anyways." Harry glanced at the paperwork. "So…that's my medical file? It looks pretty big."

"It should be- you've gotten into a great deal of adventures during your time at Hogwarts."

"Could I?" Harry asked, reaching for it.

The man handed it over. "It's your file- I don't see why not." Harry didn't notice that the man took a few slips of paper out casually, putting it in his lap.

Harry began to read from the beginning. "Huh. Yeah, I guess I started pretty early, huh? Completely forgot about that run in with Malfoy."

He continued to read, describing visit after visit. Harry frowned as he continued to read. He'd gotten in quite a bit of fights, and he was prone to injury in class, or even just walking around…huh…

He shuddered as he read the report from his fourth year, describing the events around the third task. It seemed as time went on, Harry had gone to the infirmarary more and more. During his sixth year, it was almost a bi-weekly event. What the…how had he not noticed it before? Yeah, he'd spent a lot of time in the infirmarary, but surely he wasn't that accident prone or got into fights that much… yeah, he got hurt, but it wasn't that bad… of course, there was those two weeks after the run in with Voldemort the previous year...

He couldn't read any more. He shoved the papers back into Snape's hands. The man accepted them, watching his face carefully.

"You're quite the trouble maker, aren't you?"

Harry looked away, frowning. So what if he liked to get into fights with Malfoy?

"Not all of those were my fault." He pointed out quietly.

"I counted 32 occasions where you came in scuffed up from a fight with Draco Malfoy." Harry crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "You were injured in almost every single Quidditch practice and game you had. But you wouldn't always come in straight afterwards."

Harry remembered the exhilaration of flying around the quidditch hoops dangerously, toes skimming the ground as he flew at a top notch speed- he was just excited thinking about it. What was wrong with a bit of dangerous flying? It was fun, he reasoned.

The man went on, trying to prove a point. "You've been in the infirmarary a total of 283 times, Mr. Potter, and you still have _another_ year to go. Why are you so intent on hurting yourself?"

Harry flinched at this. When he put it that way… "I don't know what you mean."

Snape set the papers aside, and leant forward, elbows on his knees- their faces were inches away from each other.

"You deliberately antagonize Mr. Malfoy. On occasion, you've done it to me as well. Hell, you even did it to the Dark Lord. You fly dangerously, almost to the point of a fatal injury. You risk your life regularly almost to no thought to yourself, and-"

Harry breathed in sharply. Yeah, he was an idiot sometimes, but could you blame him? He just got so revved up, and…and… there was the war, but….

"I like it, alright!" Harry yelled in the man's face. He suddenly paled, and covered his mouth, feeling horrified. Had he really just said that? Did he really mean that?

Snape's dark eyes were knowing as he looked at him. "Right. Why hurt yourself when you could have _others_ do it for you, am I correct?"

Harry shuddered, wrapping his arms around his middle. He drew his legs up to his chest. He really didn't want to think about this. He really didn't want to think about how much fun he had dueling Malfoy- "I don't want to talk about this."

"You've nearly died. More than once, Mr. Potter. Next time you may not be so lucky."

Harry bowed his head. His eyes felt itchy, and his face was hot- he felt so ashamed. He was freak- the Dursleys were right all along.

Snape moved a bit closer, putting his hand on Harry's arm. Harry flinched, but the man ignored it.

"Potter…Harry, there is nothing wrong with seeking pain." His voice was soft and gentle- Harry had never heard that tone coming from the man before. He tilted his head up, looking to the man in surprise. All of his previous thoughts came to an abrupt halt, and all he saw was Snape. The expression on the man's face was something he'd never seen before. What was this?

The man's hand grew firmer on his arm. "There is nothing wrong with seeking pain." He repeated, watching Harry's expression. "It is only_ how_ you seek it is what makes it potentially dangerous."

"I don't understand." Harry whispered, wanting to know the difference. Snape's face was quite composed, but his dark eyes were dancing.

The man's hand slid down his bandaged arm. "In a controlled setting, pain can be…relieving in a way. Freeing. But doing it in the way you are now will only lead to your death. I might find you irritating, but I don't want you to die, Harry."

Harry's eyes were only for him- it sounded so odd for the man to say his first name. "You hate me." He whispered.

"I don't. I might find you to be an irritating nuisance, but I do not hate you. My hate is reserved for those who truly deserve it."

"Oh."

"I know you cannot promise me that you will never want to hurt yourself. That would be a silly thing to ask of you. However, if you…ever feel that way, will you come to me?"

Harry looked down at the man's hand, which stayed in place on his wrist. "I suppose."

"Yes or no, Harry." The man said, a bit of edge creeping into his voice.

"Yes sir." Harry murmured, eyes flicking to Snape's. What would happen? He wondered if they would talk, just like this…that wouldn't be so bad. This was kind of nice, actually.

"Good. Now, are you hungry?"

Harry nodded quickly. He hadn't eaten since the Feast the previous night.

"The Headmaster will be here soon, so we should have our dinner now. Winky!" He called. A prim looking house elf appeared. She looked quite different than Harry remembered. She smiled as she saw Harry, and then she looked to Snape expectantly.

"Yes Master Snape?"

"Winky, please fetch dinner for Harry and I. Nothing too heavy for the boy. He is injured and needs to recuperate a bit."

"Yes Master Snape!" She squeaked, and looked to Harry. "I hope you is feeling better soon Master Harry Potter sir. Dobby is missing you." With that, she popped away.

"Are you on speaking terms with all the house elves in the castle?" Snape murmured, looking rather amused for some reason.

Harry just gave him a sheepish smile. "What?"

"Nothing." The man flicked his wand, conjuring a table and another chair.

"Will you be able to stand?" Snape asked.

"I'll try." Harry said, bringing his legs over. He grimaced at the sensation. He stood too quickly, and would have fallen over if not for Snape.

"Don't let all my hard work go to waste, Mr. Potter." The man murmured, holding him carefully.

Harry blushed with embarrassment, and Snape helped him to his seat. Winky appeared with a tray of food and drinks. "Is youse be needing anything else Master Snape and Master Harry Potter sir?"

"No thank you Winky." Snape said, dismissing her.

They began to eat. A quarter of the way through his food, Harry's stomach protested- he'd never been able to eat much at the start of term.

"I know you're not feeling well, but you must eat. How are you to recuperate if you do not eat?" Snape asked, sipping his glass of wine.

Harry sighed, pushing the food around his plate.

"Yes sir. I just…have to get used to eating again."

Snape frowned at this. "Those relatives of yours…didn't feed you very well, did they?"

Harry looked away carefully. Snape sighed. "At least eat half. You weren't even given that much."

"Thank you." Harry murmured. He'd try to eat that much, at least.

Sssss

Severus stared at the sleeping boy on his sofa, lost in thought. The young man looked troubled, even in sleep. The visit with Albus was full of false cheer and blatant lies, like he'd expected.

It was sickening, at how the man could lie to the boy's face like that. Albus had to know what was going on. He had to. And the boy kept up the ruse, false cheer on his face as well. If he was angry with the Headmaster, it was well hidden.

Severus would have to return to teaching the next day. There was no way he could put his classes off for another day. While Sprout knew her herbology well, using them in potions wasn't her forte. And the poor woman couldn't possibly teach her classes as well as Severus' for too much longer.

She'd been hosting them in the greenhouses until the lab was cleaned up. Since it looked like it would be a couple more days until Potter, no Harry, could clean up the mess, he would have to stick to hosting his classes outside the lab.

It had happened before, but never for so long, or all of his classes. While the students had been learning basic ingredient collection techniques from Pomona, perhaps he could expound at that knowledge, letting them collect from the certain spots he'd found around the Grounds- outside the Forbidden Forest, of course.

Perhaps his sixth and seventh years would be allowed within the forest, but they would stay away from the more dangerous parts.

Severus leant forward, absently brushing his fingers against Potter's…no Harry's forehead. Slightly warm, but no where near a fever. His fingertips brushed against soft inky hair- he was tempted to run his hands through it.

He held back, though.

It wasn't news to him that the boy could be possibly masochistic. He had been thinking around those thoughts for the past year or so. Poppy had speculated the same in her notes as well.

Yes, the boy was a fighter with violent tendencies- but Severus thought that his habits for self injury and putting himself in danger was a sign of his subconscious telling him something. He wasn't suicidal, that was certain. He was a masochist, and there was a great difference.

Harry had the misunderstanding that if one wanted pain, they were weak. Many people often came to that conclusion, and that wasn't always true. Sometimes, it was quite the opposite. They grew stronger because of that pain, because of what they endured. They grew even more so once they accepted who they were, and acknowledged that they were strong enough to accept pain within safe limits.

Severus knew that the boy was brave- almost stupidly so. He wanted to help the young man, if only to save him. Of course, it didn't hurt that Severus had his own intentions as well.

His fingertips brushed against a soft cheek. He wanted Harry to be strong, to become independent. He had the potential; that was certain. He just needed a not-too-gentle shove to get him started.

And Severus would give him that. A slow smile spread on the man's face at the thought. He stood, and adjusted Harry's blanket before retiring for bed.

Yes, this year was going to be interesting.

Sssss

Whoo, another HP/SS story! Hope you guys like!


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